


A Break in Mental Restraint

by ShadowMistWolf



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Arson, Blood and Gore, Creepypasta O/C, Dark Theme, Explicit Language, Graphic, Language, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Murder, Only a small bit of FNaF, Only small mention of Slender Man, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 12:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowMistWolf/pseuds/ShadowMistWolf
Summary: Pushed past the point of no return. Origin story for my Creepypasta O/C Jay Shaw AKA Vindicator.





	A Break in Mental Restraint

**Author's Note:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> THIS STORY WILL INCLUDE GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF MURDER AND LANGUAGE.  
> This was originally done in a way to channel my depression into something productive and things came out a lot darker than I had anticipated. This does reflect some feelings I had for my own siblings but two years of psychology classes have made me view my situation in a new way and I am proud to say that even though they still piss me off to no end, it's more tolerable.  
> *THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION* The situations depicted are in no way related to any actual happenings.

Six. That was how old my little brother was when he decided to go to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria for his birthday. It was a bright and happy kinda place from the look of the posters and fliers that the small boy brought home, and because of that I absolutely hated it already. You see, I’m not exactly the type of girl that goes around flirting and dressing pretty. My name’s Jay Garnet Shaw and [this](http://www.polyvore.com/emo_purple/set?id=138494648) is the kind of stuff I like to wear. And yes, my hair is dyed and styled like that and I love it no matter what my mom thinks. I got the tattoo from my dad, my biological one anyway. It used to be just my parents and me, then they divorced and I got dragged away with my mom who remarried and had four more kids. The ‘dad’ that I have now is a tech junky that works at the help desk of one of the colleges near our home. I myself am going to college, just not the one my dad works at. It’s a basic community college that I’m going to until I save up enough money to get into the mechanic school that I want to go to. Either that or an art school so that I can get a job as a tattoo artist with my real dad. 

Anyway, since the place was bright and happy so I was sitting at a corner table with my laptop reading through some Creepypasta. I absolutely love things that freak me out, so you can imagine my irritation when my mother decided to slam it shut, making me jump back slightly. 

“What was that for?!”

“You need to stop being so antisocial! Get off this hunk of metal and go play with your sibling before I throw it away!” I clenched my jaw to stop any rude comments from endangering my most prized possession before sliding the laptop into its carrying case and slipping out of the seat, my mother’s hawk-like eyes watching my every move as I walked closer to the two little blonde girls jumping around a purple bunny animatronic. To me the thing looked creepy as f*ck, but to a little kid the difference between real and fake was indistinguishable. 

The bunny glanced at me for a second as the girls clutched my legs, screaming at me to play with them and Bonnie, the bunny. I smiled slightly and patted their heads, telling them that I had to go and do something before I could play with them and that if they told mom where I had gone they wouldn’t get their usual special treat.  
Of course to two three year olds something ‘special’ was worth dying for, so I knew that I was safe to disappear for a while. But then, right as I was about to leave the room, the music stopped and the animatronics were back onstage trying to get someone called ‘Foxy’ out. A few seconds of loud thrill screaming later and some sort of red, pirate animatronic was singing and walking around before going back to Pirate Cove as they called it with a few of the kids. It looked like this Foxy character wasn’t all that popular, since only about six kids followed him back to the Cove and later left about halfway through his story. It looked like Jasmine and Kim, the three year old twins, didn’t like him either, especially when Kim started hitting and kicking him.

“Kim! Knock that off!” I scolded her, narrowing my eyes when she ignored me. 

“Leave her be, she’s not hurting the thing.” I bet you can’t guess who said that. It was my mother. 

“Don’t tell her that!” I tried to move forward to stop her from hitting the fox again but I was held back. 

“I’m her mother, not you. I tell her what not to do, leave her alone, she’s fine.” She pushed me back and I lost my balance, hitting the floor harshly. When I glanced up again I nearly had a panic attack. Everything seemed to move slowly: my mother turning back to the fox, my little sister retracting her fist from hitting the machine, and worst of all, the jaws of the animatronic fox opening to show glistening metal teeth moving towards Kim’s head. 

I threw myself off the floor, pushing my sister forward and instead of the sharp teeth clamping down on her head, they clamped down on my arm and shoulder. It almost felt like an anime moment type thing, the blood bursting from the wound, the intense pain that left me paralyzed before I screamed bloody murder. People panicking as they struggled to release the fox’s hold on my arm and shoulder. Children screaming as parents pulled them out of the pizzeria. It was dream like until I blacked out and woke in the hospital with bandages and stitches covering my wounds. 

I spent the next two days in the hospital, having the doctor check the stitches and redo the bandages before I was finally allowed to leave and go back home. My mother, of course, was only worried about how the bills were going to affect her income while my father didn’t even check up on me or ask about what happened. Kim seemed to have developed some sort of intense hate towards me in those two days and it just increased my own negative feelings towards all my half-siblings. 

Two weeks later and the stitches were gone and the once gaping injuries were just scars marring my pale skin. I learned that the pizzeria had shut down Pirate Cove after what they now called ‘The Bite of 07’ ((Yes, I changed the date, dill with it :D)) and for once, I wished that I could have gone back and just watched that animatronics’ jaws sink into the brat’s head. 

But believe it or not, it wasn’t Kim that broke my last straw; it was Nickolas, the former birthday boy. He was having a friend over for a sleepover and [I](https://www.polyvore.com/fnaf_last_straw/set?id=167770073) was babysitting while my parents went out for a date night. I was sitting on the couch, listening to the two boys yell at the new video game they were playing until they thundered down the stair and turned off the TV. 

“Hey, buster, turn that back on.”

“No, we’re setting up the Xbox down here.”

“No you’re not, mom said you could have it upstairs but not down here.”

“Whatever, emo, go die.” At that, I stood up from my chair and walked over to them before shoving both away and turning the TV back to my show. I pulled my pocket knife from my back pocket and watched the blade spring out as I pointed it at them.

“You touch this TV one more time and you’ll be the one dead. Got it?” The two boys froze before rushing back up the stairs, obviously scarred out of their minds because of the knife. Instead of going back to my chair, I headed to the kitchen to get a soda from the fridge and a pack of Poptarts from my secret spot in the cupboard. It was then that I returned to the couch, sitting comfortably on the brown leather and continued to watch Tattoo Nightmare until everything suddenly went dark, not the unconscious kind of dark but the dark that results from having no power. Huffing in irritation, I stood up and headed to the laundry room, where the power box was located. The problem with that was that the laundry room was in the basement. Which meant going down the stairs in the dark. I pulled my phone form my pocket and turned the flashlight on, heading towards the stairs that were hidden behind the kitchen. I opened the door and stretched my arm out with the light, trying to see if there was any clutter on the stairs, but as I went to take a step down, something pushed into my back and I fell forwards, tumbling painfully down the concrete steps. 

I hit the bottom and withered in pain, clutching my stomach and my head, feeling something wet coating my hair. I pulled my hand back into the light to see the scarlet blood dripping down and quickly wiped it off onto my black tanktop. I struggled to my feet, using the wall and railing as support, only to hear a slam and the turn of a lock on the door above me. I glared up and the door and picked my phone up, glad that it was still working but pissed because for some damn reason we don’t get service in our own fucking basement. 

I turned the light off and switched on the power box that was right next to the stairs, illuminating the basement with a soft glow from the overhead lights. I held my already bloody hand to the cut on my head to help stop the flow of blood, but gave up after a while of feeling the liquid drip down my arm. 

A thought hit me and I headed to the storage room, moving the boxed around until I found one with my name in red ink scrawled on the side. I cut open the tape and lifted the lid, smiling. This particular box was one that my mother had tried to get rid of, but I had hidden it down here for safe keeping. I grasped the entire thing and lifted it, bringing it out to the main room of the basement before carefully sorting out the contents. I carefully lifted the hookah out first along with everything that went with it, and then lined up my knife collected by size and blade type, then finally I grasped the smaller, more decorative metal box. I lifted the lid to find the polished silver 9mm Browning with its custom carve details and set of silver bullets neatly lined up beneath it. I smiled lightly and loaded the clip before putting everything back into the box and the box in its place. 

I couldn’t help but laugh just a bit when I aimed at the lock on the door, firing off one shot to completely destroy it and kick open the door. There was a scream from the living room so I headed there first, seeing both boys cowering behind the sofa. 

“I really fucking hated you, you know.” was the last thing out of my mouth before I pulled the trigger twice, spattering blood over the walls, the furniture, and myself. Footsteps thundered above me and the grin on my face grew as I stalked up the stairs, hearing the slamming of a door to my right. I took a second to calm down the bloodlust and dash to the door, using the most convincing worried and frightened voice I could.

“Kim! Jas! It’s just me I’m coming in!” I slipped through the door after tucking the gun away out of sight. Just as I expected, they threw themselves at me and wrapped themselves around my legs as I pulled them towards the closet and sat down with them inside, shushing them.

“Don’t worry.”

“But there’s a monster downstairs! I heard it!” Kim whimpered weakly and I paused for a second, a wide grin growing on my lips as I softly cradled her head in my hands.

“There’s no monster downstairs, sweetheart.”

“Then where is it?” Jas sobbed.

“It’s here, in the closet.” With a quick wrench of my hands the tiny neck snapped and I grabbed Jas as she screamed, covering her mouth with my hand.

“Hush, hush.” I whispered in her ear and she froze, chest heaving in panic as the door opened and the fourth of my half siblings crawled into the closet.

“I heard a gun!” Abigail, the oldest of the four, whispered, fear in her voice as she settled in next to me, unaware of her sister violently trying to shake her head. 

“Latch the door, Abby.” I told her quietly, smiling in the darkness as I heard the lock click into place without much more than the rustle of clothes. You see, the thing about the latch was that once it was locked, it was only openable from the outside. Deftly I managed to shoved two fingers into Jas’s mouth, pining her tongue down with my long nails as I pulled the gun from the waistband of my skirt and looked to were my only dark haired little sister sat. A single shot and blood splattered against the doors as the body in my grasp shrieked and tried to wiggle. I dropped the gun and wrapped my forearm around her throat, as my other pinned her arms to her sides. Pressing firmly her breath stopped and she began to struggle even more before she stopped and stilled, the beating of her heart slowly fading into nothing as her little body went limp. 

Standing, a swift kick busted the weak wood open and I giggled to myself before laughing outright. Four of the six problems in my life had been taken care of! Only two to go! Smiling widely, I headed back downstairs; passing a mirror I paused at the splatters of blood that had stained my face, hands, and clothes in addition to the bloody mess on the side of my head before continuing. 

Raiding the cabinets in the kitchen, I finally found my father’s stash of rum, whiskey, and vodka. Taking several of the bottles, I ran up the stairs as began splashing the alcohol everywhere, slowly making my way from room to room. The smell was horrendous but I kept at it, even going into the garage for the three containers of extra gasoline my father kept for the lawn mower and ATV. By the time I was done, it was barely ten o’clock and the only room left untouched was my own. With quick movements I shoved my most valuable objects into my black suitcase along with as much clothing I could. Next was a smaller bag that I used to gather up all the expensive jewelry that I and my mother owned, after that I went back to the basement to get my beloved box of forbidden items and rustled through it to find the custom make lighter that my biological father had gifted my with on my seventeenth birthday, he knew I just like to play with it though, I didn’t smoke. 

Packing the contents of the box with the rest of my things, I tossed in my stash of junk food and put it all by the back door, a space with very little burnable liquid near it. Finding my way back to the kitchen, I popped the lid on the remaining bottles and took them to the living room where I sat down with my back to the front door, my gun on my lap and the glass containers in front of me. 

A dull throb began to settle in my head from the lack of adrenaline and I groaned in annoyance, managing to get up and stumble to the bathroom and find the bottle of painkillers to down a few, shoving the bottle into my small pocket. Plopping back onto the couch I sighed and picket up the remote to the stereo and played my Pandora station, grinning at the irony of the first song that began to play – Getting Away with Murder by Papa Roach. I’m not sure how long I sat there, but eventually I heard the closing of a car door and sat straight, moving to the very edge of the leather couch so that I could get up easily and quickly. 

The door opened and the first then that I heard was the sound of my mother gagging at the smell of alcohol and gasoline, my father just mumbled to himself like always. Footsteps headed down the hall, growing closer and closer until a horrified gasp announced my mother’s entrance. 

“What the hell?!” Ah, at last, something that wasn’t an incomprehensible mess of sounds. I slowly turned my head, letting them see the blood that stained my hair and shoulder and then my face as I fought to keep my expression in check.

“I think, something’s happened…” Eyes frantically roaming around the room, my mother finally say part of the limp body of my brother and tried to rush to it, but as she passed me, I grasped the neck of one of the bottles and swung, smashing the glass across her face as she fell with a cry to the ground. With the gun in my left hand, I lifted it slightly and fired a single shot, hitting the kneecap of my stepfather, he fell faster than my mother had, but screamed almost as loudly. Opening the second to last container, I splashed them a few times, reveling as they hissed in pain as the alcohol seeped into their wounds. 

“You know, you probably could have prevented this whole thing. It’s your faults this happened. I want you to know that.”

“What the hell are you talking about?! What have you done!? You killed your brother and sisters!! You’re a monster! A murderer!!” I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped my lips as I swallowed a burning mouthful of vodka before smashing it against her head again, leaving a massive gash the second time around that quickly led to a pool of blood seeping into the carpet. 

“My my, that looks like a nasty little wound.” I sang, grabbing the last bottle and pouring it straight down on it, listening to him gasp and groan before letting off a round into his chest, followed by what was left of the clip. 

I smiled at the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NTfbLtXTlw) choice as I headed towards the back door. With my bag and suitcase, I flicked back the lid of my zippo and sparked it into flame, and with a flick of my wrist the flame became an inferno. The roar and crackling of fire nearly drowning out the sound of sirens, but I was already gone.

#### *** Time Skip: Five Years***

_“Local News reports of yet another case of arson in the area; police are once again left baffled by the lack of evidence found at the scene. News reporter Kathy Oakwood is on scene now. Kathy?”_

__

__

_“Thanks Denise, police are dealing with the sixth case of criminal arson that has occurred in the last two months. Now, reports say that in these cases only a single person from each home was left, all of them with solid alibis for the case. The evidence would suggest the only thing linking the victims are the marital circumstances, namely divorce in which one parent remarried and had children younger than the living family member. It does seem however, that the surviving teens admitted to police that they felt neglected emotionally by their parents and were contacted by an unknown person, who called themselves the Vindicator, offering them ‘a way out of their situation’ and even told them what they would do in detail. Many said though that they thought it was just a hoax; that they weren’t actually going to hurt anyone. Due to lack of connections between the victims and the suspected criminal, no charges can be places against them, which is forcing the police to track down and apprehend this gruesome mur-”_ The television switched off, a young woman sat on the edge of a hotel bed for a moment before standing. 

A newspaper from a completely different town and five years old sat on the coffee table, the front page a report of a murder/arson case in which the oldest daughter was suspected of killing her parents, sibling, and one of the neighbor's children, burning the house to the ground before vanishing. With a grin she grabbed the paper and stuffed it into a black suitcase, leaving the room and heading down to the lobby where a cute bell boy shot her a wink and she smiled at him.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a plane leaving in a few hours and you know how slow security gets.” She chuckled.

“Well, have a safe flight, Miss.” He hailed a cab and with one last wink she climbed in, lowering the window to return the gesture.

“Thanks.” With a glint in her eye she was gone, the cab vanishing from the sight of the hotel quickly. 

“Heard about the news lately? Seems somebody’s going around burning down houses.” The cab driver started, a hint of curiosity in his voice as the woman looked at him in the rearview mirror, pausing when she could hardly make him out in the shadows of his hoodie.

“Seems so,” she replied simply.

“You know, it’s quite strange for a woman like you to have a lighter on you at all times, but not a single smoke.” Her heart skipped a beat but she schooled her features into a neutral expression.

“It belonged to my father, it’s a memento.” 

“Really? Which one, the one that lives in Washington, or the one you burned along with your house?” This time she couldn’t keep the shock off her face and stared at the man’s shoulder, unable to see his face still.

“Who the hell are you?!” This time he did turn and a white mask with black painted eyes and lips stared back at her.

“You can call me Masky, my boss wanted to meet you in person, Jay Shaw.” With wide eyes, she scrambled for the handle of the door and launched herself out; taking a second to realize that the car was stopped. In the middle of a dark forest.

“Where are we?!” She demanded, whipping around to glare at the masked man standing on the other side of the car.

“I think you already know the answer to that question.” She could hear the smirk in his voice as the faintest sound of static reached her ears, coming from directly behind her. A grin twisted her lips as she refused to look backwards just yet.

“Son of a bitch.”

_“That’s no way to speak to others, Miss Shaw.”_

**Author's Note:**

>  **No criticism unless it's constructive please.** Reminder that this is fiction.  
>  I own nothing but my O/Cs and the plot line.  
> Masky belongs to Marble Hornets and Slender... well I don't actually know where he's really from because there's like a million and a half different things out there for Slendy and I cant be bothered to sort through it all.  
>  _Have a nice day and remember that leprechauns booby-trap the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, so stay on the rainbow. Gay over gold, mate._


End file.
